


Incubus

by GarGoyl



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Obsession, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2616662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Old stuff) Tony makes a strange discovery about his family, while Sketch's obsession for Maxxie takes a terrifying turn. Non-slash.Tony's POV. Warnings: violence/dark/angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discovered

I never really thought Dad was a keeper of secrets. He was clearly not the type outwardly. Plain, boring bit of a twat without any drop of mystery and excitement in his life. But I guess that when one lives as long as he has, some stuff inevitably pile up in a hidden closet, especially favoured by the fact that it is not in human nature to disclose the truth. Not in my nature anyway, I always lied as easily as I breathed. However the ability to conceal the truth and the one to recognise people with similar potential are two separate and not necessarily mutually inclusive skills, I pondered as I analyzed the box in my hand. I ran a thumb over the soft dark green velvet of the lid before popping it open yet again. He kept it stuffed in the depths of his wardrobe, where he thought no one would ever search. Wrong he was and kind of lame if you think of it, but who cared what Dad did anyway, except for me in need of a, well, let's say 'unauthorized loan'. So I normally wouldn't have cared if Dad kept a velvet box containing a picture and a lock of hair of some girl who was not Mum, some remnants of his ancient history, if it hadn't struck me in an odd way. The girl was very young, maybe about Effy's age, and had Effy's large, dark-blue, haunted eyes. The similarity was stunning, but the picture was old, and no one I knew from our family looked so much like my sister. It also had this special vibe about it, of something _known_ , and as such it intrigued me to no end.

"Fucking hell, Tony!" my father shouted suddenly, making me turn around, a bit startled.

Either I had gotten reckless or he'd become unexpectedly clairvoyant; how else could he have known I was in his room? Damn it, anyway. I was preparing to deliver a clever excuse when I witnessed his momentary anger melt down into a more indefinite expression, something strangely resembling panic, as his eyes dropped from my face to the object I was still holding in my hand. Out of a sudden impulse, I decided to play the boldness card once more.

"So who's this, Dad? I don't remember seeing this picture before…"

It took him a while to answer, in which time he appeared to be struggling with himself, before he could eventually get himself to speak.

"That's my sister," he murmured at last, uncomfortable, as he drew closer and snatched the box from my hand with a firm gesture.

"I thought you had no siblings, Dad," I said, surprised in turn. Then it struck me that maybe I'd made a goof – the hurtful sort. "What was her name?"

"Melanie. Her name is Melanie," he muttered.

" _Is_? You mean, like, she's alive? But… how come you never told us about her?" Okay, so I was just asking a perfectly normal question there, or so I thought, but Dad suddenly got all worked up about it.

"I told _no one_ about her!" he pointed bluntly. "I wanted her out of my life and certainly nowhere near you and your Mum! She's dangerous! When you have family like her you don't talk about them! Ever! It's not right!"

"Is she mental?" I asked without much thought. But seriously, why else would he have had such a reaction?

"She's a witch." he blurted out defeated. He looked cornered and like he had no choice but to – finally – speak some truth that had been burdening him for a long time. And I would have certainly felt it for him if what he'd said hadn't been plain nuts. As such all I could grant him with was a disbelieving look.

"She's a what?"

He didn't answer, just shook his head and raised his hands in a dismissive manner. "Just leave it, Tony. Forget we ever had this talk, yeah?"

"I'm just thinking, Dad, what were the odds of anyone ever finding this, you've had it stuffed down deep after all… but I did and there's something you don't want me to know about her, isn't it?" I wasn't quite sure where that had come out from, but I had a strong feeling of _familiar_ about her, of closeness that made me at least curious.

"For fuck's sake, Tony, why do you have to be so nosy all the time? Why can't you just mind your own fucking business for once?"

With that Dad literally shoved me out of his room, obviously unaware that there was a phone number scribbled on the back of the picture and I'd happened to see it.

* * *

 

I let my fingers trail lazily along the length of a random dusty shelf, glancing curiously at the various peculiar bottles, boxes and jars of all colours, sizes and shapes. I took a deep breath, trying my best to get a calm and composed countenance as I waited in the semi-obscurity of the hallway. The large mansion's interior was impressive in the strangest of ways, starting with the ancient bell and ending with the weird looking furniture. It was creepy, and not in a good way, if it was ever such a thing, but I liked it. It felt like _home_ , in a way my own house never did. I do have to say that having this strange feeling of belonging to this basically foreign place rather than my own family's home made me slightly guilty. Not too much though - before I'd left I'd told Dad where I was going and he'd said nothing. Just ignored me. It was a taboo but he wasn't even trying to keep me away from it anymore. But then again Dad has always been a twat in the way that never disappoints.

I turned around casually, only to notice I was being stared at. Well, not exactly stared at, but curiously examined, at any rate. A young woman stood silently, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, head slightly titled to the side, observant. She looked rather unexpected – long dark brown hair let loose and a bit ruffled, pale skin, almost no makeup, a simple grey top and jeans – nothing of the 'professional' Goth look I'd imagined. Pretty, though.

"Oh hi…" I spoke a bit hesitant, struggling against an uncharacteristic shyness. "I'm looking for Melanie Stonem, she lives here, right? I'm-"

"Another Stonem," she stated as a matter-of –fact, with a hidden hint of irony. "Come, she is expecting you."

I wasn't sure I liked how that had sounded, I thought while I followed her in silence down a smaller corridor. She eventually opened the door to a large living quarters and motioned for me to go in. My gaze wandered a bit around the room, curiously – large windows draped with velvet curtains, a fireplace, cozy sofas and a small table. No crystal ball or potions cauldron anywhere, I briefly noted a bit malicious. My observations came to an end when I eventually spotted the woman sitting at the table with her head propped in one hand. I recognised her from one glance, even though I'd never actually laid eyes on her before in my life. I could not say that my aunt looked in any way familiar, but when she glanced up at me I couldn't help noticing the trademark deep, dark blue eyes.

"Tony! I'm glad to meet you at last," Melanie Stonem greeted me, a smile warming her rather ageless features.

I advanced and sat down at the table in front of her, feeling a bit more encouraged, and smiled back.

"So… I suppose your father has told you about me. Not that long ago, right?"

"Actually, he didn't quite tell me… He did, eventually, but he never meant to. I found this picture of yours, rather by chance, and I asked."

"I suppose he was uncomfortable about it?" she suggested.

"Yes, sort of… although I cannot help but think that he should not have kept this from us. That we should have all met, like a family. I mean who cares that you're a fortune teller, right?"

"Did he say that I'm a fortune teller?" Melanie asked with a confused frown, sounding a bit offended.

I chewed my lip. Okay, a little goof there, shit. "No, but… He said you were a witch so I supposed… "

"Actually I'm in a slightly more serious business, a bit dangerous too," she began explaining, leaning back in her chair. "We are 'consultants' if you like; it's just that we help people overcome problems of a more special nature – haunting, curses and so on. Supernatural."

"Like Voodoo?"

"Not really our cup of tea but we'll deal with it if we have to."

"Oh. Cool." I didn't quite know what to say to that. "I mean, that's out there… Do you charge high fees?" I asked innocently.

"Yes," she replied and laughed. I took a deep breath, glad to notice she had sense of humour.

"Okay, so I guess Dad has 'mixed feelings' about your job – which is quite special, I have to say – but that doesn't justify him acting like you need to be cast out, like you're doing something bad or…"

Melanie's smile faded and she sighed almost inconspicuously. "Tony, when you have relatives in this trade you don't talk about them. Not with your friends, not with your other family, not with anyone. It's not safe."

"It seems to me like we're not such a big secret," I half joked, shrugging. "I've just been told that I'm _another Stonem_. Sounds like a brand, our name. Not necessarily a good one though…"

My aunt turned towards the young woman who waited patiently by the door, looking quite bored.

"This is my most trusted assistant, Ella Meharan. A vile little creature who always has a kind word for everyone," she explained amused. Said assistant shook her head and walked out, muttering something along the lines of 'fuck you both'. I smiled in acknowledgement of a fellow smartass.

"And it's a family business mainly, yes. Probably that qualifies as a 'brand'."

"I see. So it's like your children will take over at some point?"

A shadow of sadness passed over her face for a brief moment before she answered. "I have no children." She sighed. "This is no place for children anyway. But someone from the family will indeed."

"Not my Dad though…?"

I managed to make her smile yet again.

"No, it works like this: there were always two children born in every generation, a boy and a girl, both had powers but only one of them was required to join… Your father was most likely hoping it would never happen, not to any of his children."

"Whoa… What do you mean by 'powers'?

"Well, special abilities."

"Prove it," I dared her bluntly, crossing my arms. "Because I quite frankly don't think-"

"Don't you always have it your way with people, Tony?" she said serious. "Do you not twist and turn them like poppets?"

"Well I don't…" _like to admit it_ , _but I kind of do and I'm kind of… not sorry for it either._

"And you have this sort of positively outrageous luck, don't you?"

I stiffened a bit at that. "I got hit by a bus – not really what I would call luck…"

"And survived against all odds," she added with a knowing smile. "You are special, Tony, there's no point denying it. You've inherited some really particular stuff."

"Okay, maybe…" I agreed half-heartedly, hands up. _Surely not from my Dad and hopefully none of his particular stuff_ "So I'm supposed to work with you now?"

"Should you wish to take it upon yourself, yes." my aunt said tentatively.

I shrugged, kind of uncomfortable. "Um, yeah, I guess." I no longer felt any need to try and hide anything. She was making me feel safe in a way I wasn't quite able to figure out, safer than I'd felt in a long while, with anyone. "Sounds exciting, at any rate."

"Actually we were hoping that Effy would make this choice," Melanie answered after a moment's thought. "Most of the times the girls are more in touch with the mystic nature of things, if you know what I mean. Also…" she went on, drawing a deep breath. "It's sort of like a custom – the boy gets to live his life, have a family, to become a respectable member of society. The girl can carry this _burden_ somewhat easier – we're a bunch of strange hags, folks fear us and nobody asks about our business. We don't draw much attention."

"Like 'the boy lives, and the girl will be sacrificed', right?"

I instantly regretted the bitterness in my tone when I saw her features harden, but she agreed with a silent nod. I pondered in turn. If this was some dangerous stuff – and it must have been, she'd admitted it herself and hell, Dad was freaked – there was no way I could let Effy do it.

"The truth is that Effy is quite delicate, sort of unstable too, bit of a mess really… I don't think she can cope responsibly with having a job. Well, not this job anyway. So I have to do it."

"It does take a lot of work and dedication, too," my aunt pointed.

 _Am I not all about that?_ I nodded.

"It's settled then."

She rang a small silver bell and the assistant poked her head inside.

"Ella, starting today my nephew Tony will be my new apprentice," she announced proudly. "Please provide him with all the necessary materials so that he can begin to study."

"How very interesting…" Ella observed, with un-dissimulated irony this time. "Of course, I shall provide him with everything he needs. And you with less wine."


	2. Prey

The books my aunt had supplied me with were a thrill. Of course, I'd always had a soft spot for everything mysterious, strange, sophisticated, complicated, and last but not least, dark. I'd carefully kept them away from Dad's sight, just in case. Not that he'd bothered to ask anything about my visit. He'd simply, silently, accepted _it_. Fine.

Melanie had also instructed me that aside from 'theory' study, my abilities needed training as well. I had to grow more aware of them – really pay attention to how and what I felt, at all times. Listen to what sheer intuition would tell me and that I should start observing people. Stay in tune with their feelings and sneak into their minds. Needless to say I loved it.

My perceptiveness needed exercise. Since the psychology class bored me to no end, as did pretty much all classes ever since I'd devoted my attention to far more interesting subjects, I decided for a little try out. I just closed my eyes, focusing to capture my friends' vibes. It proved quite easy really, and it must have been something I'd done before, without realising. So there I went: Jal – preoccupied and concentrated; Anwar – anxious, insecure; Michelle – slightly annoyed, probably with me but I wouldn't delve in too deep; Sid – bored and sort of depressed; Chris – distracted, all over the place; Maxxie – fading.

_Wait, what?_

That couldn't have been right. I broke my concentration and glanced inquisitively in his direction. He sat quietly at the table, back slightly hunched, blonde fringe shadowing his eyes, scribbling something in his notebook, probably taking notes. He seemed just fine. I tried to relax and leave it, but my gut feeling persisted. Maybe there was something wrong with _me_ , or I was plainly imagining things that weren't there, just for the sake of it. I needed to get a closer look though, keeping it as inconspicuous as possible, so I leaned over my table, closer to Sid's ear, and asked if he'd done any coursework for English. Stupid question, of course Sid hadn't. Then I got a glimpse of Maxxie's eyes – he wasn't that fine after all, even if the signs were hardly noticeable. He looked lost and absentminded, and his breath came out laboured, as if he was struggling to breathe. Well, weird… but _fading_ was slightly different than having had a rough night, wasn't it?

By lunchtime I'd made up my mind to check the accuracy of my instincts. As soon as I filled my food tray I went and joined the table where he was sat with Anwar, Chris and Sid.

"Hey, Max," I said casually as I plopped down in front of him, next to Sid.

"Hey…"

Then it hit me, like a blow in the face – a terrible, protruding _cold_ , filled with hopelessness and despair, one of the most horrid sensations I'd ever felt. I froze in place, my hands limp on either side of the tray, staring.

_WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?_

"Erm… you ok, Max?" I asked, rather pointless, tearing my gaze away from him and glancing down at my food.

"Yeah… "he answered in an unconvincing manner.

"Max is on his own these days," Anwar informed, before I got the chance to say anything else. Not that I knew what else I could say. "His folks won a special trip for two – two weeks in Spain. How cool is that?"

"Yeah, man, that's so cool! I mean, we're talking fucking Spain, yeah?" Chris observed.

"Sure, lovely," I agreed, busying myself with slicing a sausage, even if my appetite was gone. "So, any wild plans in the meantime?"

"Nah, man, I'll just… just enjoy the peace and quiet…"

Anwar made a funny face and rolled his eyes.

"And the fact that I can finally get my hands on the remote control," Maxxie added with a wry smile.

"Boring."

* * *

 

He left college early that day and didn't show up at all for the next three days. No one had any news of him and I tried his mobile several times with no result. Crazy enough, it seemed that I was the only one (secretly) worrying. Apparently no one else even noticed his absence, let alone found it odd, except for Anwar, but he was sure that his best mate was taking advantage of his parents being away and was out wasted somewhere. Which was normal, I supposed, but worried me even more – for myself this time. Maybe I had gotten a bit carried away with my little experiment and had become slightly paranoid, but I would not have rest until I got to the bottom of it. And that meant talking to him face to face.

Finally on Saturday I decided to pay him a visit. A reasonable hour, it was maybe seven in the evening, way too early for any nocturnal social life, quite appropriate to 'just drop by'. But once in front of his door I was confronted with the same stubborn and maddening silence. I panicked. Was he really not there, purposely out of reach, or something had happened to him, as I'd feared all along, even if I'd refused to admit it even to myself? Good timing for his folks to go away, damn it! Either way, I had to know. After a quick look around, making sure no one was in sight, I dug in the depths of my pockets, took out my emergency paper clip and picked the lock.

_Great, Tone! Welcome to Maxxie's stalkers club…_

Both embarrassing and illegal, but then again, no one's fault that he had a shitty lock …

Outside it was a pleasant autumn evening, the air still quite warm after a sunny day, but once I stepped inside… Oh Christ! There it was again – _that cold_ , a freezing, almost numbing cold.

"Hey, Max! You home?" I called tentatively. _"_ It was open… Max?"

No answer. Just cold. Shit.

I advanced carefully down the narrow hallway, the sickening feeling getting worse and worse. I stopped abruptly in front of the living, noticing a pair of eyes watching me warily from under the sofa.

"Here, Taz! Come here, boy!"

Strange, he always came to greet visitors. I stooped forward with my hand outstretched, but the dog only let out a faint whimper and refused to move. _What the hell?_

The door of Maxxie's room was slightly ajar. I walked to it and my hand went stiff on the knob. I _knew_ , even through that dead silence, that he was in there. I took a deep breath, slowly pushed the door open and my stomach cringed at the sight. Every bit of floor, furniture and walls was covered in the same two words, repeated obsessively and scribbled in black letters by an unsteady hand: _Forgive me._ Maxxie was crouched down on the floor near the wardrobe, hugging his knees, his striped hoodie wrapped tightly around his body, trembling and sobbing silently.

"What the fuck, Max?" I questioned out loud, for lack of better words.

He ignored me. I drew closer, cautious, and knelt down in front of him. His eyes were puffy and red and his face crumpled. What the hell, had he been in here all this time crying? What could have possibly happened to him?

"Hey… It's me, Tony," I tried, as gentle as I could manage. "What's wrong?"

He sniffed but still did not look up. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," he whispered between sobs. "P-please forgive me! Please forgive me, Sketch… I'll never do that again, ever! I swear… I'll love you, I'll do anything you want, just please… please forgive me…just… just…no more, don't hurt me, please…" Then tears choked him and he buried his face in his arms.

 _Sketch_? _What the fuck?_

"Max, what the fuck happened?" I insisted. "Did she hurt you? It's okay now, I'm here, you're safe now, just talk to me, yeah?"

Little did I know that he couldn't be any less safe and neither was I.

Reality hit me the next second, as I reached and grabbed his shoulders, in an attempt to shake him out of that state. It was like an electric charge, violently coursing through my body and I was suddenly thrown backwards. Once the shock wore off, I was aware of the dull ache in my skull where it'd hit the floor. I felt nothing else. From my neck down I realised in utter horror that my body was dead. I couldn't feel it at all; I might just very well have been a severed head, somehow still alive.

"OH MY GOD!" I screamed out loud, one with the adrenaline rush. "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL?! MAX, I CAN'T FUCKING MOVE! HELP ME!"

But my screams fell on deaf ears, as he showed no sign of having heard me at all. I was fucking invisible too. To say that I panicked would have been an understatement. I was _horrified_. Everything was fucked up beyond belief – Maxxie was obviously cracked and there I was, completely paralyzed, unable to reach for help in any sort of way.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they did. After a while, in which my mind frantically searched for a solution and found none, I finally noticed a reaction from Maxxie. He lifted his head and glanced at the window, visibly frightened. I looked too, but there was nothing there except… it was getting dark. I suddenly felt a pang of fear all over in my body, as while the light was fading, the hopeless, exasperating _cold_ grew. I instinctively _knew_ that something fouler was yet to happen and wanted nothing but to get out of there, just run, far, far away. Even though I realised that my senses were slowly coming back to me, it wasn't fast enough. I felt my limbs but still couldn't move.

Without warning, Maxxie turned, opened the wardrobe door with a shaky hand and crawled inside, closing it behind him.

"For fuck's sake, Max, don't leave me here, all alone…" I whispered, more to myself. My voice died in my throat upon the sudden discovery that in fact I _wasn't_ alone. It was there, a foreign, menacing presence. I felt her way before I saw her, terror choking me gradually every second of it. Sketch. It was her, in the flesh, beyond doubt.

_WHAT THE FUCK…?_

How the fuck had she gotten in there unnoticed? Had she been there all the fucking time? I was far too shocked to speak, I had no idea what I could have said anyway and it soon became obvious that she had no business with me. She stepped over my sprawled out form without as much as a glance on her way to the wardrobe. With a blatant tut she opened the door and chuckled. From where I lay I could see her face and that grin curdled my blood. She stooped inside determined and pulled Maxxie out rather effortless. He wasn't even struggling. She pushed him down on the floor not inches from me and straddled him, pinning his wrists.

"Leave him alone, you psycho bitch!" I yelled angrily, revolted. Not that it mattered.

Sketch cast a glance around the room, thoughtful, before focusing her attention on her sobbing, shaking, mess of a prey.

"Aww… " she said shaking her head. "Are you sorry Maxxie?"

"Yes…" he barely whispered.

"How sorry are you?"

"V-very sorry… Please… I beg you!"

"Hmmm… okay then," she agreed. "It will be painless tonight." Saying that she leaned and pressed her mouth over his. Seconds later his eyes closed and she pulled away, allowing his head to drop to the side.

" _For all love lost blood shall be paid..._ " Sketch recited in a sing-song voice. Then she leaned over him again, long sharp teeth sinking into Maxxie's neck, and I screamed.


	3. Sentence

My body felt sore all over, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in my head. I struggled to open my eyes, meeting the semi-obscurity of an unfamiliar room. Melanie was sitting on the edge of the sofa I was lying on, looking down at me with a concerned expression.

"You know, Tony, when I was your age… oh my God, I was such a smartass," she began in a soft voice. "I thought I could do anything! And so I volunteered for the first job I could even if I was still an apprentice, even if they told me it was dangerous, because I thought I could do it, I could face whatever. And it sounded simple – there was this woman whom her late husband wanted to take with him, the elders were trying to save her, they were performing a ritual and all I had to do was to hold a candle and make sure it didn't go out… And it went well until _he_ came, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck, and then he thrust his sharp claws into my ribs, but still I thought I could take the pain… but I couldn't, I fell down, the candle went out and the woman died…"

I pulled back involuntarily. Why was she telling me such a thing? In the utter blur that were my memories of the previous night, that was really the last thing I wanted to hear – more tales of terror.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "The idea is, Tony, that someone had to die for me to realise what this thing is about… It's not a joke and it's not a game."

"When did I ever say it was?" I muttered half asleep, before my reasoning finally kicked in. "Wait! What happened? How did I end up in here?"

"I was able to find you this time but you really shouldn't push your luck like this."

_But I wasn't pushing my luck, I just went to visit my friend and…_

"Maxxie!" I exclaimed, sitting upright, in an instant surge of panic. "What happened to Maxxie?"

Melanie shook her head, sighing. "He's in the other bedroom with Ella, but you should know-"

I jumped up from the sofa and darted out of the room before she could finish her sentence. I jogged down the hallway to the said bedroom and nearly slammed the door open. Maxxie was asleep in a large bed, tucked in under a thick blanket. He looked awful, terribly worn; his face was eerie pale and his breath almost inconspicuous.

"Don't touch him," Ella's voice warned from behind me as I'd stooped to get a closer look.

"He looks really bad; we need to take him to the hospital!" I pointed out the obvious.

"They can't help him at the hospital."

I turned abruptly, not knowing what to make of this. "What do you mean?"

"Tony, do you have any idea what happened to him in the first place? Or to you, for that matter?" Ella asked rising from her armchair and crossing her arms.

_Not really…_

But I made efforts to remember as much as I could. "Okay so I had a strange feeling about him at school, and a few days later I went to check on him… He was really depressed and wouldn't talk to me… and it was cold, like freezing, very, very cold in his room… And then I became paralyzed…"

"You touched him, didn't you?" she suggested.

"Yeah but just his shoulder… And then that weird thing happened to me, and then there was this girl from school… I don't know where the fuck she came from, she just … showed up, out of thin air, and then she… um… drank his blood, I think." My stomach cringed again as I recalled the scene quite vividly.

" _A girl from school…?"_ Ella asked raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you sure you're not mixing things up…?"

"What? No! I saw her! It was her, that bitch… She's obsessed with Maxxie, she's broken into his flat before and other weird stuff, she's a fucking psycho! And I know what I saw, I'm sure it was her. Besides, he said her name, he kept begging for her forgiveness so…"

"Tony, you friend has an _incubus,_ " she cut me short. "Do you know what that is?"

"What? It can't be! An incubus is a… demon. Right?"

"Exactly, it is a demon," she explained. "Its manifestation absorbs all the energy from the space around the victim, which explains the sensation of cold you have experienced and which by the way 'normal' people cannot perceive… Many books erroneously describe the haunting of the incubus as being of erotic nature due to its possessiveness of the victim's body – it viciously attacks anyone who touches them – so that's why we can't take him to the hospital. But the truth is that the incubus is a weapon and its purpose is to kill."

I dropped on a chair, exhausted, struggling to focus. It was a bit too much and too soon for me to take in.

"So how did you bring him here then?"

"The hard way," she replied, pushing back the hood shadowing her face and revealing an ugly cut running across her left cheek.

_Fucking hell!_

"Could you give me a minute alone with him? Please?" I asked. I needed to wrap my mind around this thing and it sure as hell wasn't an easy task.

"Sure. Just don't touch him, yeah?"

I nodded and she left without another word. I sat down carefully on the bed, taking in Maxxie's sleeping form. He seemed a bit more peaceful than the way I'd found him, but he was suffering, I could tell. How the hell had this happened, so cruel, so fucking bad? I simply broke me and I wasn't even close to feeling all of it.

"Max… can you hear me?" I pleaded in no more than a whisper.

It almost startled me when he shifted under the covers and opened his eyes sleepily.

"Hey, Tone..."

"Hey…"

"There's something very wrong with me, isn't there?" he asked in a tired voice.

"I need you to talk to me, Max. Just tell me what happened, yeah?"

"Not sure, it started a week ago maybe… I got home one night and went straight to bed… The moment I walked into my room I had this strange feeling, like someone was watching me… God, I was so sick of this, of seeing her face every single day… So I pulled down the blinds on my window, even checked under my bed and in the wardrobe…nothing." He paused and took a deep breath. "It happened after I switched off the light… I felt hands, cold hands all over my body and when I opened my eyes suddenly she was there, on top of me, holding me down… I tried to push her away but she was so strong, like… way too strong, so I tried to call for my Dad, but then she put a hand over my mouth and…it all went black. The next morning I was feeling sick, my neck was sore, sort of… and then I almost passed out in the shower…"

"Max, it's going to be alright," I promised, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'll help you, yeah?"

"You can't," he replied shaking his head slowly. "You don't understand… no matter where I hide, she will find me and every single night… she will feed on me until… until there's nothing left."

His words dug my chest hollow, I could feel it, every single drop of his torment and for the first time in my life I cursed my powers.

"I'm dying, Tone…" he whispered with a long sigh and his eyes closed.

"No! Max, listen to me!" I shouted. I wanted to grab him and shake him, or maybe just hold him tight, but I could do neither. "I won't let this happen to you!"

* * *

 

"Tony, can we have a word? Outside…" my aunt asked and I followed her out the room, on the edge of my nerves.

"Did you tell him?"

Ella shook her head with an uncomfortable expression.

"Tell me what?"

My aunt placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and I instantly knew I didn't want to hear what she had to say. "Tony, I'm afraid that we cannot help your friend… The box thorn extract helps regenerate the blood supply naturally but it will only keep him going for so long… we cannot remove the problem and _it_ will eventually… I think it's best if we call his parents and tell them-"

"Tell them what?" I interrupted, suddenly out of breath. "That _he's going to die_? Is that what you're telling me? That you're going to let the incubus kill him?"

"Tony, we are not all-powerful," she tried to argue. "We can deal with spells, and with most spirits, but we cannot fight a _demon_. They are much too powerful for us!"

"But… you mean exorcisms are not real?"

"They are but we are not really working for the Vatican, are we? Not even the elders could-"

 _No, no, that can't be true! It can't!_ I shook my head angrily, on the verge of tears.

"I'm really sorry you have to go through this from the very beginning, it's a horrible part of our job, but sometimes there's nothing we can do and our clients die…"

"WHAT? Our _clients_? What _the fuck_ are you talking about?" I shouted. God, what the fuck had I gotten myself into? "He was there for me, holding my hand when I was a _fucking vegetable_! Do you have any idea what that is like? He stayed by my side when all my other friends ran away because _it was too horrible_ , and now you expect me to just sit here, do nothing and let him die because _it's too horrible_? WHAT THE FUCK?"

"I am truly sorry, Tony. But I have all the confidence you'll find the strength to get over this. You have _no choice_ now but to be strong."

With that she left me and I sank to the floor, prey to the darkest despair. It was a nightmare and it was getting worse and worse. Maybe my aunt was right and there was nothing they could do for Maxxie but still, it felt heartless and it struck me in a painful way. That, on top of everything else.

"She wants you to fail, just like she did her first assignment," I suddenly heard Ella's voice and I looked up to meet her gaze, set upon me intently.

"But this is not an assignment, it's just-"I stopped, when I actually processed what I was saying. "Wait, you don't mean to say this is happening… because of me?"

"No, it would have happened anyway, except that you were meant to be involved. So it is a test. For you."

"Then I've failed already," I concluded bitterly. "I'm helpless. I have no clue what to do and no one will help me!"

"Nothing has failed yet" she said, with a half-grin. "Tony, I was punished to serve your aunt because I've been a bad girl, but she is an epic failure, she always was, she always played by the rules, never thought outside the box... If you want Maxxie to live, you have no choice but to be strong and say ' _fuck that_ '."

And 'fuck that' it was.


	4. Protection

I surely would have found the library fascinating had I been in a better mood. It was truly impressive, way larger than I had expected, and the filled bookshelves reached the ceiling, but it was hardly the escape I needed in that moment. The air was dry, almost choking, and I wasn't used to creeping in the dark for too long.

"Are they done with you?" Ella asked slightly curious, coming to sit at the table where I'd dropped, exhausted, under a dim light bulb. "You do look done with…"

I sighed in agreement. "Yes, my aunt, and the elders - which… I don't really know who they are since they won't even show their faces - told me all about the history of the Order… The founding families - the Stonems and the Greys, and the outsiders they have occasionally recruited, have been around for centuries, protecting the innocent, the helpless and last but not least the wealthy against the forces of evil which prey upon this world… Bottom line being that I should not put them and their work in danger by doing anything particularly stupid," I quickly resumed the last two hours of tedious lecture, massaging the back of my neck. It was sore, after being tensed for so long.

"Yeah well, I suppose that got you devoted to our great purpose," she commented, a bit ironic. "They, and especially your aunt, really wouldn't want to see you turn into one of the _bad Stonems._ "

"The bad Stonems… that sounds appealing," I mused.

"I cannot speak of them, it's forbidden," Ella whispered conspiratorially, leaning forward. "What did they say about your friend?"

"His parents are still abroad and we weren't able to reach them, so they agreed to keep him here, under observation, until… well until it's over. In the meantime they'll keep him sedated, so to at least give him the comfort of sleep while _it happens…"_ I drew a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over my face _. "_ You know, I really can't grasp the idea that he's lying unconscious in the other room, dying because someone is _feeding_ on him. It's just… _fucking mind shattering!_ "

"Look, I know it's horrible, but…"

I sighed, laying my notes on the table. "But I have to focus if I want to do something about it, yeah. And I really appreciate that you've agreed to help me with this."

She nodded with a brief smile.

"So last night I went through the books filed in the computer database and did a bit of study on the subject of incubi…"

"Let's hear it. What have you got?"

I leafed through the random excerpts, trying to figure out which were the most important parts. All I had found were scattered bits of information, it wasn't a thoroughly explored subject, let alone documented.

" _The male demon is called incubus, while the female is called succubus. However, since most of the times their sex is not necessarily predetermined, or permanent, they are all referred to as incubi. The incubus is a creature of demonic origin who feeds on human victims by drinking their blood, most of the times when they are asleep, but not necessarily. They only feed after sundown and preferably in the dark, but light as such, apart from sunlight perhaps, does not constitute a defense against them,_ " I quoted. "There isn't any mention of any sort of specific defense against such attacks, by the way."

"Nothing new there…" Ella observed.

"Okay, I also found this account by some guy named Nicholas Heap… who is said to have written the only accurate explanation of the phenomenon, back in 1593. He claims that the common belief according to which an incubus attack occurs out of the blue couldn't be more wrong and the truth is that the incubi are not wandering demons preying on random victims. They are created by a wizard with appropriate knowledge and powers by conjuring Lilith, the demon who is said to be the mother of all incubi. The incubus thus conceived will obey his master alone and will prey on whomever it is ordered to… Does all this confirm what you knew?"

"Pretty much… but what isn't there is what I found in this book of spells," she replied pushing forward a dusty tome. "Chapter 3 – Amulets. There is quite a large variety of amulets against all sorts of evil spells, diseases, demons and so on, among which there happens to be one against incubi. Not very effective though – the demon will overcome it eventually-"

"But it could give us more time!" I interrupted, somewhat hopeful all the sudden. "Does it say how to make the amulet?"

"Yes."

* * *

 

"Here you have everything: gas lamp, sharp knife, silver coin – by the way, that will be deducted from your pay check – and a white candle," Ella explained dropping the required supplies on the table. "I'll be outside, call me when you're done."

Saying that she walked out and I was too embarrassed to confess that I would have preferred not to be left all alone in the basement laboratory. It was dark and rather sinister, only lit by dim bulbs, just like the library and pretty much all the rooms of the mansion. While it may have felt familiar and mysterious in the same time, I'd discovered that the absence of light was quite nerve wrecking in the long term.

I stared down at the open book lying on the lab table and the tools I'd set ready, feeling utterly stupid. My best friend was dying and there I was, playing fucking Harry Potter.

_Great! Just... great!_ _As if I knew what I'm doing._

A spliff fell down from my pocket when I pulled out the lighter and I didn't think twice before lighting it and taking a long drag. It made me feel slightly better, gradually relaxing the knot of panic in my stomach. I took my time, smoking all of it, before I could even think of anything else.

I flipped the silver coin back and forth between my fingers, uneasy, as I went through the text once more. The procedure sounded very simple: the silver coin had to be heated until the metal went soft enough to allow carving the two words – _Lilith Abi (Lilith be gone)_. And all through the process I had to repeat the words clearly, both in my head and out loud, fully focused, like I meant it. That part was less simple – since it actually meant that I was supposed to believe that I was powerful enough for my words to take effect. Like the incubus would have really given a fuck about what _I_ was saying.

More than an hour later I was exhausted and sweaty, the tips of my fingers were either burnt or bleeding, but it was done. Sort of. The letters were ugly and angled, but at least they were readable. I'd dug a hole near its edge with the tip of the knife and had run a fine thread through it so that it could be worn.

Ella held it up, examining it thoughtful.

"Do you think it will work?" I asked worried. "What's the worst that can happen? I mean, what adverse effect can it have?"

"The adverse effect would be _no effect_. Truth be told, I cannot think of a more adverse effect! Either it works or it doesn't."

* * *

 

Testing the bloody thing was another story entirely. I slipped it carefully past Maxxie's head as he slept, almost holding my breath, careful not to touch him. Once at his neck, it was supposed to keep the incubus away from him, at least for a while. But it was impossible to tell if it really was so, other than by actually _checking_. And, just like my aunt many years before, I too naively thought _I could do it_. But all my efforts to compose myself and to focus proved useless when memories of my previous experience flooded my mind. Fear gripped me and my hand stopped abruptly, inches from his face. A voice inside my head kept telling me that there was no way in hell I could go through _that_ again and not go insane with terror.

"It's ok, it works," Ella said, and I looked down to see her gently stroking Maxxie's hair. So at least I'd done something right. "You alright, Tony?"

"No, I… I fucked up," I admitted shrugging my shoulders awkwardly. " _I_ was supposed to do this, not you… I should have tested it, but I was so fucking afraid all the sudden, I fucking _freaked out_ …" Needless to say how angry and ashamed I felt at my own helplessness.

_Some fucking useless prick you are, Tone! Get yourself together, for FUCK'S SAKE!_

"Ridiculous, yeah? I mean, what's to be afraid of?" she wondered amused and I managed a weak smile in turn, despite my state.

"You did well, Tony. It is dangerous, and difficult, not to mention something the elders would never approve of." She smirked at those last words.

"It's because it's dangerous, isn't it?" I thought out loud, suddenly enlightened. "I mean that's the idea – that maybe they could help him, but it's dangerous, and he's not a _client,_ he's not paying, so he's just not worth taking that risk," I concluded bitterly.

"Normally I would be inclined to agree, but in this case they were really telling the truth," Ella replied. "I checked the archive and it seems that the Order has not had an incubus case since the Middle Ages – in fact that was the first _and_ _the last_ time they attempted to deal with such a thing and they fucked up. The one who did it was Alistair Grey, one of the very few men who were ever part of the Order – and he only did it because he fell in love with the victim, a lady from the Court. The records don't say how exactly he went about it, but in the end the incubus killed them both."

_Now that sounds very encouraging…_

But then maybe Alistair Grey had been an idiot, I offered myself a possible comforting explanation. One thing was for sure – whatever he'd been up to, I had to do better than that.

"You know what I find weird? I went through all these books and they explain what an incubus is and so on, but none of them say anywhere neither how to fight an incubus nor how to make one in the first place," I pointed.

"Oh, Tony," Ella said shaking her head. "There are plenty of books about _those things_ , but we don't have them."

 _Great!_ "So, let me get this straight, _we_ don't know how to make an incubus… but fucking _Sketch_ does?"

She gave me a questioning glance, interested. "Wait! Who's Sketch?"

"It was her I saw on the night of the attack. She's a girl from school, I told you she was obsessed with Maxxie, remember? Okay, I know, it wasn't her, it was the bloody incubus, but it _looked_ like her, so she must have made it, right?"

"The book says _wizard with appropriate knowledge and powers,_ which doesn't really rhyme with _random psycho teenage school girl,_ does it now?"she observed.

I pondered on that bit. "I don't even know, I mean she is sort of strange. She looks fairly weird, has no friends and lives alone with her crippled mother. I reckon she must have some issues, this sick obsession being one of them…"

"Tony, think about it. Someone with the skills to make an incubus does not lurk in the shadows, being miserable. And as sure as hell they can manage a fucking love spell… But you're right, if the incubus looks like her, then she must have something to do with it. She's definitely the key."

"So… what do I do now?"

"Before you can do anything else, you need to get to the bottom of this."


	5. Truth

"You alright, Tony?" Jal asked, quite casually and not really that preoccupied. I must have looked a bit pale and worn after all the sleepless nights I was getting lately, but for all she knew I could have been out partying.

"Sure. I'm cool," I replied and even managed a reserved smile.

Apart from that, there were no further questions about how I was. It seemed almost unthinkable that I had to go to college every day, smile and pretend everything was fine. It felt as if I was returning to the relatively quiet and peaceful world which I'd known all my life from one awful trip into the dark, tenebrous world of what was going to be my calling and future job - in fact, _my whole_ _future life_. It was damn hard to believe it was in fact the same thing, all wrapped into one big horrible… whatever.

There was a simpler part to it though. Everybody was strangely unaware of Maxxie's absence, teachers and students alike, almost as if he'd never existed. It was so fucking convenient, just like his parents had suddenly gone God knew where, so that he would be left all alone and helpless. I was sure that it had to do something with the incubus, but exactly how this thing worked was beyond me. All I knew was that I had to keep it under wraps – how could I have possibly explained to our friends, or to anyone for that matter, what was going on? There was no way in hell. And I had to get the truth out of Sketch. She was the bloody key to this entire nightmare, so I had to make her talk. _You're a Stonem, persuade her_ Ella had told me. Easier said than done, at any rate. I hadn't thought much of Sketch before other than the general loathing she'd attracted from pretty much all of us, but now she was rather frightening to me.

"Hey Sketch."

I had her cornered near the lockers after classes, and she looked up at me suspicious, even though I preserved my light mood and resisted the urge to tear her to pieces right then and there.

"Hey Tony…" she answered distantly, busying herself with her books.

"I just want to have a word with you, that's all." I could tell she was nervous but I needed to stay calm and make sure she could not escape me.

"Oh? What about?"

"A subject of common interest, so to speak… So, have you wondered where Maxxie might be these days?"

She flinched almost inconspicuously but when she turned to face me her chin lifted in utmost defiance. "I have not and I do not care! If you didn't know, I love Anwar now."

_Of course you do and of course you don't_

"Fantastic, but that's hardly the issue here, is it?" I pressed losing my patience, not that I'd had much to start with. "The issue is _what you did_!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

I gripped her arm just as she was turning her back on me again, this time trying to get away. "You have done something to Maxxie and you will tell me everything about it, right now!" I nearly shouted. Luckily no one was around.

"No I didn't! I didn't do anything! I didn't want to…" she shrieked, struggling to escape my grip.

I slammed her against the locker and the fingers of my other hand closed around her neck. "You will _let me know._ " I hissed, my nails almost digging into her skin. She seemed suddenly terrified but I forced her to stare into my eyes, fully focused until her pupils dilated and her mind ceased to resist me. It opened like a book and I saw everything.

" _Nothing. I felt nothing. You disgust me!"_

_His words still burned her ears as she walked, further and further into the darkness, hugging herself over the light coat as she clutched the piece of paper in her fisted hand. Her chest felt hollow, like her heart had just been ripped out. She wondered how anyone could endure such venom and not be left breathless._

" _You think you can fuck up my life and I'll start fancying you?! Look at yourself. Stay out of my life!"_

_Just like a poisonous blade, stuck into the very core of her being. From time to time she would brutally wipe the makeup mingled tears off her face with the back of her hand, but they kept welling down, unstoppable. Her dream lay shattered into a million pieces, and they were all sharp. She had truly believed in magic, in the magic of love. She could not tell how that idea had grown on her, how it had started in the first place, why she'd foolishly imagined that it would all eventually work and be wonderful, but she knew now that it had been a cruel lie. She focused her blurred vision once more at the crumpled note in her hand and unfolded it. "Magic does work" it said, just below the address. The words had been scribbled down in ugly black letters on a filthy paper and she'd never gotten to see who it was that had slipped it into her hand as she'd run off the stage, desperate to get away from all the pain and humiliation. Sketch had told no one about her secret hope, no one except Maxxie, yet it was obvious that someone else had found out, maybe someone had overheard her confession._

_She walked almost absentminded for ages before she eventually realized that she was quite lost, in a strange and unfamiliar neighborhood. She could not tell why she trusted the message, or where she was going and just stopped abruptly, glancing around in utter confusion. It was a small stone paved square surrounded by shitty looking cottages and there were almost no lights around. There was something foul and suffocating in the still air but she felt strangely calm. Checking the note again, she discovered what she was looking for: No.44 Crimson Square – Old French Quarter. The number tag was pinned on a plain looking wooden door and Sketch rang the doorbell with an awkward feeling, not knowing what to expect. After a while, getting no answer, she tried the knob and the door swung open._

" _Hello?" she tried shyly, but the three old women that were playing cards under a bright reddish lamp ignored her. They looked ragged and filthy, positively disgusting and the place, as far as she could see, was one obscure mess._

_She looked down uncomfortably at the piece of paper and decided for a second attempt. "Excuse me, I…"_

" _What do you want?" one of the women said in a high pitched voice, suddenly turning and startling her._

" _The truth and no lies," croaked another. Abandoning their game, all three focused on her, eyeing her with interest._

_She didn't really know what she wanted anymore. To just drop dead and feel no more pain, most likely, but she refrained from saying it._

" _Have you ever suffered because of love?" she asked instead._

" _Does it look to you that we're stuck here enjoying our 'happily ever after's?" the first woman asked in reply and the others laughed._

" _This is not funny you know…" Sketch whispered sadly._

" _Of course it's not funny," the hag said dryly. "I'm just trying to make a point – and answer your question. Maybe you are suffering because of love? Spill the whole story, better out than in."_

_Sketch felt like she had no choice but to pour it all out – all the bitter disappointment, cruel humiliation, excruciating pain and above all love, endless love. Because love was still there, inside her, in spite of everything. How could she have been wrong to believe in something so pure yet so fierce, so overwhelming? Her story was beautiful, and rather moving, thought the hags, but they had heard it all before, from one another and from countless other wretched souls, again and again and again. Until it had become increasingly boring and had ended up stepping on their nerves, like all shit that keeps repeating itself to no end._

" _It is hopeless. I just feel… utterly doomed," Sketch concluded. "So why am I here? Why did I get this?" she finally got the chance to ask, holding up the note she'd been fumbling with the whole time._

" _Because we can help you, poor child," one of the women said compassionately, standing up. "We can put an end to your pain."_

" _How?"_

" _You will forget your love and all the suffering will be over. But that cannot happen unless the person responsible for all this pays the price."_

_Sketch squirmed a bit when the woman's bony hands grabbed her shoulders and directed her to one side of the room. There, the witch pulled aside a ragged curtain to reveal a large blackened cauldron. A peculiar, iridescent liquid was boiling inside._

" _Is this how magic works?" she asked puzzled._

" _Indeed! This is the true magic, the only one that has worked, ever since the world was young. And now it will help you!"_

" _But I… I'm so sorry," Sketch apologized beforehand. "I have very little money. I cannot pay you properly!"_

" _Oh, don't you worry child, very little money will do just fine. Just make sure you let others know about what we can do."_

" _I will. Of course. But what will you do?"_

" _For your torment to end, Maxxie must be punished."_

" _Punished?" Sketch pondered. "He does deserve it, I mean he did hurt me, but I still… maybe you are right but…" She inwardly cursed herself for being so weak._

" _My dear, dear Lucy," the witch drawled "There is no other way. Otherwise you will never be free of this accursed love."_

_Sketch felt all her will leave her as the old woman gripped her wrist and stung her index finger with a long needle, releasing a few dark red droplets into the cauldron_ _. She was left staring blankly and helpless at what her eyes did not want to see. Once that done, the witch focused on the cauldron's contents, which had begun to stir and hiss._

_From Lucy's blood you shall take form_

_From Lucy's pain you shall draw breath_

_From Lucy's anger you shall grow_

_For all lost love blood will be paid_

_She ended her incantation with a satisfied grin as a sinister figure began to take shape from the dark vapors. Sketch wanted to yell, scream in horror as the black form crawled out of the cauldron and slipped out under the door, but her voice was gone. Magic did work after all._

I pulled away, equally horrified and disgusted by what I'd seen and felt. There was a good reason why getting too deep into other people's minds and memories was not recommendable and reliving someone else's experiences was down straight frightening. I let go of Sketch and she sank to the floor, limp. I ran down the hallway as fast as I could and didn't stop until I was outside on the green. I had to breathe, what I'd just seen was too horrible and the image of the demon lingered before my eyes.

It took me a while before my mind was able to form thoughts again. Just like Ella had suspected, Sketch had not made the incubus herself – hell, she probably didn't even know what that was. _But the incubus is a part of her, that's why it bloody looks like her! It was born from her emotions!_ I pointlessly wasted my time trying to find arguments that Sketch was responsible for what had happened. She was, undoubtedly, it had all started with her and her stupid obsession, but she hadn't really done anything herself and as such she couldn't help me. I hated her even more for it, since I'd allowed myself the futile hope that getting to the bottom of it was going to be – well, not quite simple – but at least _doable_. But the incubus only obeyed its creator and that was someone I didn't know and most likely someone I couldn't deal with.

 _But I have to_.


	6. Stolen

_No.44 Crimson Square – Old French Quarter. I've never heard of such a place in Bristol, so where the hell could that be?_ I wondered, struggling for some concentration. _It can't be a real address, but at least I know how it looks like… It must be somewhere in the outskirts, there are a lot of old buildings - the kind of place where the ugly, or the positively sinister for that matter, doesn't stick out. Sketch walked there, she didn't remember how but she walked. So it can't be very far… If I focus to remember everything I saw in her mind, if I follow her footsteps exactly… it will take me there…_

Most of those in the witchcraft 'line of business' were nocturnal creatures, not really fond of light, if not down straight adverse to it, so if I wanted to go ahead with my rather reckless plan, at least it had to be done during daytime. I happened to be in luck - the sun was up in the sky and there were a good few more hours of full sunlight left before it would start to get dark. I had no time to waste.

"So I'll just go there now and see what I can find," I resumed my decision over the phone. "I _saw_ a pile of books in her memory, on a bookshelf near the cauldron in which the incubus was created – they may be the stuff we are looking for, so I need to get my hands on them if we want to have the slightest chance of fixing this," I concluded impatient.

"No, no, no, Tony!" Ella pleaded. "Listen to me very carefully now, you cannot go there on your own, it's a really bad idea! Those women sound like the kind of shit you really don't want to mess with, don't think you can sneak into their house, ransack their things and get away with it!"

"I'm sorry Ella, but I really have to do this, I have no choice and I don't want to put anyone else in danger. Please, just don't worry about me, yeah? I'll be okay, I promise."

"Fucking hell, you twat!" she muttered, not as angry as expected though. "If you're not back by sunset I'll have to tell your aunt and the elders about this! Just wait and see how fun that's going to be, that is if you're still alive by then! "She then added something else, but I snapped my mobile shut. There would be plenty of time for talk when I got back.

_That if I do get back…_

I walked without pause for the next two hours, my feet guided solely by the stolen memories. It was a rather awful, otherworldly sensation, like straying into a self-imposed dream, like a drunken haze while my vision was focused inwardly. I was forcing myself to experience it again, what it felt like to be in _her body_ rather than in my own, in control and yet not quite.

Eventually I found myself in the sought place and stopped to observe where my mind-digging had brought me. Just like Sketch remembered, it was a stone paved square with small houses on all sides, even though it looked different by day. It seemed like a dry and deserted place, sunken in a dead silence. No wind passed through the branches of the few random trees and the noises of the city did not reach. And there it was, to my left, an insignificant, ugly looking brick cottage, with the _44_ tag pinned on the wooden door. I shuddered.

* * *

 

For a short while I simply stood motionless in front of the door, pondering what to do. The afternoon sun was bright and warm and I still felt good, sort of confident, surrounded by the golden light. But I knew that once I stepped inside all that would go down the drain. Damn it! I realised that going through the front door was out of the question if I wanted to have the slightest chance of sneaking about unnoticed.

_Fuck, I hope that they don't already know I'm here… Fucking hell, that would be one nasty surprise..._

The house had a small courtyard on one side, which seemed to stretch along the left wall and go around to the back. Carefully pushing the rusty gate, just a bit to allow myself in, I slipped inside swiftly and quickly closed it behind me. A large tree shadowed the courtyard and the ground was covered in dry leaves that hadn't been gathered in ages. Luckily they formed a thick soft layer which muffled my footsteps as I advanced cautiously, until I discovered what I was looking for – a small back door, almost entirely covered by ivy. By the looks of it, it hadn't been used in a very long time, but it was my only chance. I ducked under the still green curtain of leaves and tried the knob. Locked, but my paper clip worked wonders. Inhaling deeply, on the edge of my nerves, I pushed, doing my best to minimize the creaking as it opened.

Inside, I was almost blind for a few moments until my eyes adjusted to the unexpected darkness. A foul food smell hit my nostrils, making my stomach turn. I instantly covered my mouth and nose with both hands, to prevent any betraying cough. I glanced around, trying to figure out my surroundings. There was a small closet in front of me and what seemed to be a narrow hallway and some stairs to the right. I stepped on tiptoes and peeked into the hallway in both directions – it was empty but there was a distinctive clinging of pots, coming from where I guessed it must have been the kitchen. My heart was pounding in my chest as I slipped hurriedly in the opposite direction, recognizing the living room Sketch had been in. There was no one in sight and the play cards lay scattered on the dirty tablecloth. Good.

Rushing towards the curtain behind which the cauldron was supposed to be placed, anticipation got the best of me and I forgot to watch my step. My foot got tangled into a ragged rug and I fell, catching myself in my hands and avoiding a nose dive in the last second. Unfortunately both my knees and my schoolbag landed on the floor with a rather loud, quite audible thud.

"Lyselle? What the hell are you doing in there?" croaked a questioning voice from the kitchen and I froze.

_FUUUUCK!_

My brain could make nothing more past the F word as I collected myself and my bag off the ground as quickly as possible and darted in the direction of said curtain. The cauldron was right behind it, as suspected – I very nearly ran into the bloody thing – and that wasn't exactly a great place to hide either. At the sound of approaching footsteps I had no choice but to squeeze myself and crouch down into the narrow space between the cauldron and the back wall. Much to my luck there was currently no fire burning under it, otherwise I would have successfully ended up roasted.

Right above me, fairly within reach, was the bookshelf I was interested in, on which four thick books lay piled randomly. If only I could… but it wasn't the right time. I peered just a bit from behind the cauldron and implicitly the curtain, right when one of the witches entered the room. It was _her_ , the one who'd made the incubus. Reddish eyes on a pale hideous face framed by wild grey hair. She was even more terrible to behold than in Sketch's memory, no doubt subconsciously blurred by her own dread.

"Lyselle?" she repeated, somewhat annoyed. "Where the hell are you?"

I heard a second set of hurried footsteps approaching before the curtain was abruptly pulled aside. I held my breath, trying to make myself as small as possible.

"What are you yelling about? I was upstairs the whole time…" replied a weaker, submissive voice.

"Bollocks! You were in here, don't think I didn't hear you! Do you think I've gone deaf and blind all the sudden? You were _in here_ messing with _my things_!"

"I wasn't, I swear! It wasn't me!" The one previously named Lyselle shrieked in defense.

"Of course it was you, who the hell could have been but you?" the first one insisted. "Look, you even tripped over the rug!"

_Oh shit._

"There was someone else I tell you! I can smell! I can smell _him_! "There was a distinctive sniffing sound. "Oh I can smell him!" Lyselle repeated determined. "It's a young man I tell you… he must have sneaked on us!"

_Oh God I am sooo dead... Good thing you had to wear a ton of aftershave, you complete twat!_

I was still scolding myself when a loud slap resounded nearby. "I'll give you young men, you bloody waste of space!"

Some muffled whining followed, then silence, but the first witch was still there, examining the cauldron, or so I guessed. Why the hell wasn't she leaving already? My knees and my back were beginning to hurt and the tension was becoming unbearable.

"Come now, I'll pretend I didn't catch you this time, but the next… Now go wake your sister, I've made us a nice meal… "

At last they were leaving.

_Phew! Finally!_

"What of the healer then? Do you think…?" I heard as the voices were distancing.

"Don't you worry about that little bastard, he'll be dead soon, just like the others on the list. Some luck that girl was, _heaven sent_!" And then some blood curdling laughter.

I dared to peek again, just to make sure they were out of sight, before my arm shot upwards and in two swift moves snatched the precious prey. I stuffed all the books in my bag in a hurry. By the sound of their voices, the two were momentarily in the kitchen at the other end of the hallway, but they could have returned at any time. I had to make haste and get the hell out of the house before that happened.

I rose from my place slowly and slipped out, walking on my toes and careful not to trip again like an idiot. I went the rest of the distance down to the backdoor still quite scared but nevertheless confident in my victory. At least until my hand was on the knob and I heard a voice behind me, almost breathing into the back of my neck.

"And who the hell might you be, eh love?"

I gasped and turned sharply to meet an unfamiliar but equally repulsive face – the third witch. She gave me a once over in a disgustingly appreciative manner as a clawed hand reached forward to grab my arm. Feeling an icy surge of panic coursing through my body, I yanked my arm free from her grasp and hit her right in the face with the heavy bag, sending her tumbling on her back.

"Lyselle! Martha!" she shrieked sharply, struggling to get up.

_Oh no! Fucking hell! FUCK!_

The fucking door was now stuck for some reason, to my utter horror, as I heard alarmed voices and footsteps closing in on me. I kicked it with my boot desperately, until it eventually swung open and I ran outside – courtyard – square – street – more streets, focused on nothing but escape, as fast as my legs could carry me.

* * *

 

When I arrived at the mansion the sun had set for at least an hour. Legs still shaking, I went straight to my room, clutching the - I hoped - precious bag with trembling hands.

"Let me guess: you _did_ worry about me," I stated upon observing Ella's expression.

"Actually, I worried about _me,_ " she replied dryly. "I really wasn't looking forward to having to explain to everyone how the hell you managed to get yourself boiled in the soup by some random hags, and especially how I had nothing to do with it whatsoever."

"Ugh… actually I _almost…_ well, never mind. Here's what I got," I emptied the bag on my bed, revealing the stolen tomes.

"Whoa!" the young assistant exclaimed, rapidly examining the titles and contents and leafing through the pages in sheer excitement. "Tony, this is… " she cleared her throat. "Well, _no way in hell_ anyone in the house can see these, obviously," she added controlling her enthusiasm.

"Oh that's great and all, but are they what we need?" I questioned impatient.

"Indeed they are," she replied with a half grin, holding one of the books up and open at a certain chapter, and I read the title, written in bold, blood red letters:

_Book of Lilith - Nocturnal demons_


	7. Mine

"Those three were books of magic, quite rare – I took them to the library and hid them," Ella said. "This however…" she added holding up the fourth, with black leather covers "Is not a book. It's rather a sort of ledger, or a task list."

"I did hear them talking about a list while I was in there, but I didn't really pay attention. I was more preoccupied on getting the hell out of that damned place… "I said going through the excerpts once again. Now that I had to learn them by heart I was terribly afraid that my memory would fail me right in the decisive moment. It wouldn't have been the first time…

"So your friend's name is… Maxxie, right?" she asked scanning through one particular page.

"Yes."

"Hmm… Oliver, by any chance?"

"Yes, but how do you-?" I asked suddenly worried, yet half absorbed by my notes.

"Bummer…"

I snatched the book from her hands and stared blankly at the page where she'd opened it, particularly at the name located at the bottom of a rather substantial list: _Max Oliver - Healer_

_WHAT THE FUCK? This can't be right…_

But beneath the name there were detailed information about Maxxie and his parents, their address, description, pretty much everything about them. Maxxie, a _healer_? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

" _What of the healer then? Don't you worry about that little bastard, he'll be dead soon, just like the others on the list. Some luck that girl was,_ _heaven sent!"_ I suddenly remembered.

The witches were talking about him and Sketch. God! It had been them all along – for some unfathomable reason they wanted him dead, and Sketch's insane obsession for him had come in awfully handy. Now that was way more out there than any incubus, or magic, or whatever – sweet, innocent, harmless little Maxxie being on some assassin's black list. How THE FUCK could that be?

"They want him dead…" I concluded out loud, voice cracking slightly. "Oh my God, but why?"

"By the looks of it, they must have just moved into town, or returned after a long while," Ella pondered, examining the rest of the list. "So probably the first thing they did was to draw up a list of people who may be a threat to their business. Because it is a business, and eventually they all seek to prosper from it."

I blinked slowly, unable to comprehend the logic. "And Maxxie is a _threat to their business_ because…?"

"Well, they are a slightly different kind of 'service providers' than us. It's folks like them you go to when you want something bad to happen to someone you're not so fond of. Like a terrible disease perhaps? Now imagine a healer sticking their nose into that – the whole assignment goes to shit, the client is displeased, and it all ends up with them not getting paid, after all the hard work…"

I shook my head, still confused. Again, it was way too much and too quickly to take in.

"But see… I had no idea. I've known him for quite a while and he never said anything about being a _healer._ "

"Well, most likely because he doesn't even know it himself. Just like you weren't aware of your _gifts._ "

I gave it a moment's thought. Maxxie had always made me feel better, especially when I had been sick. His mere presence was soothing, relaxing and I'd thought it was just because he was always so soft spoken and gentle, and above all caring. But probably it was a lot more than that. I had been as good as dead at some point, but now I was fine again, and maybe I owed it to him somehow. Maybe he'd been healing me without even knowing. Maybe I actually owed Maxxie _my life_.

_And now his is in my hands… Stupid fucking irony called fate_

* * *

 

When I walked into the bedroom, empty jar in hand, Maxxie was awake, hugging his knees at the far end of the bed, in a sort of expectant stance. It struck me in a bad way. He was supposed to be asleep, with all the sedatives they'd given him, but for some reason they weren't working anymore. I guessed the most likely reason as I observed the amulet at his neck – the silver had blackened almost entirely. Its power was nearly gone and the incubus was close. It was going to return that night, I _knew_ it.

His vacant stare made me feel uncomfortable, all the more since I could perceive his – if it was even possible – growing dread, mingled with my own. It would have been a big fat lie to say that I was not pretty much scared out of my mind myself.

Laying the jar on the nightstand, I sat down on the bed, next to him, and reached to hug him gently. I'd always sucked at comforting and I knew it. I had not been born to soothe, but to fight - and very possibly I sucked at that too, truth be told – so either way I wasn't of much help to him. But it was a bit of a relief when Maxxie rested his head against my shoulder, pulling closer, even if he did not look up at me.

_He's been cold for so long, and he now craves the warmth of my body… of anything even remotely human_

"Tony…" he whispered suddenly, fingernails digging into my shoulder "I want you to leave… Please, you must!"

"No you don't, Max," I pointed, in a tone that despite my intention did not come out very reassuring. _Fuck!_ "You know she'll be back as soon as it gets dark and the last thing you want is to be alone. But I'm not leaving you."

"You've always been one presumptuous bastard, Tone, I'll give you that," Maxxie sighed, "But if you stay _you will die_ and I can't take that… Please, I can't…"

_Presumptuous bastard. Thank you very much._

"Max, listen," I said lifting his chin and forcing him to look into my eyes. "I know it sounds crazy as fuck and there's no time to explain right now, but I was meant to do this – fight things like _her_ and protect people like _you_. I honestly don't know if I can really do it, if I have enough balls or enough power to do it, but one thing is for sure – if I can't do _this_ , then I won't ever be able to do anything in this fucking world, ever, and yes, it might kill me, but if I don't prove myself worthy, I might very well not be alive at all!"

But Maxxie wasn't listening to me, not anymore. He clung desperately to my arm, eyes wide with terror.

"The-there! Jesus, Tony!" he whined and I turned to see a pair of pale hands gripping the sheets at the other end of the bed.

"Let go, Max, I'll handle this!" I muttered, failing yet again to sound as confident as I'd wished. I yanked my arm free and he didn't need to be told twice before jumping off the bed and curling into a ball in one corner, behind me.

Sketch looked past me, or through me for that matter, as if I didn't exist at all. I was afraid, my heartbeat almost painfully quickened, but her refusal to even acknowledge my presence managed to step on my nerves and I drew unexpected strength from my anger.

"You won't touch him again!" I spat.

My words finally had the desired effect as her head tilted slightly to the side and her eyes took me in for the first time. "Do not come between Lilith and her prey," the incubus hissed in warning, dark-reddish eyes filled with malice and fixed upon me intently.

' _I am the spear of sun and the shield of day. Yield to my will and be mine!'_ I whispered through clenched teeth.

She stared at me incredulously for a brief moment before bursting into a hysterical laughter. "Don't be ridiculous, _Stonem._ "

I knew beforehand that in the second I started second guessing myself I would be fucked. By the look of things, either the spell was not working _or_ I was not the one capable of making it work, more likely the latter. Either way that only meant one thing: that we were utterly fucked, Maxxie and I. She would kill us both, just like it had happened to Alistair Grey and his lady… Unless I could really get myself to mean it, as I'd done with the amulet, I realised despite my fear clouded brain. Fucking _mean_ every word I said, as if _I truly had the power_ to bring that foul spirit to obedience. But it was too terrible, she took a few small steps closer and I knew there was no way in hell I could endure her accursed touch again.

My will rebelled against my own reasoning as I decided I should _touch_ first. Attack. Grab. _Claim_.

' _I AM THE SPEAR OF SUN AND THE SHIELD OF DAY! YIELD TO MY WILL AND BE MINE!'_ I shouted lunging forward, gripping and squeezing with all the strength I could muster in my trembling hands.

Sketch let out a deafening shriek and her flesh tore away like putrid paper under my fingers, slick and damp, disgusting. As that unnatural body melted into a dark, quickly scattering smoke, her bones slipped through my fingers and fell down on the floor with an empty sound, crumbling into tiny pieces, and piling at my feet. Was that really it? My hands were dirty, covered in thick black blood, my insides felt even dirtier. I wanted to throw up every poisonous bit of _it_ I'd felt within me in the very moment of possession in which its maker's will had been forgotten, and then just drop onto the floor and lay there like a dead thing.

But I could not let such thoughts drive me mad or deter me from my purpose. I did not hesitate and quickly grabbed the jar from the nightstand, unscrewed the lid and crouched down to gather the bones in great haste. At some point during this particularly disgusting operation I caught Maxxie's gaze, following my every move absolutely dumbstruck. I had almost forgotten he was there and now was not the time to try to see what was going through his mind, if anything at all. Whatever it was, he wasn't saying it and for the moment I was just grateful that he wasn't throwing a fit.

I stood to leave, doing my best to not pay much attention to the repelling object in my hand, when I found myself not really knowing what to do or say.

"Tony? Where are you going?" Maxxie suddenly asked standing up, a bit unsteady.

"I… erm… thought you might need some rest, now that it's… that she's gone, yeah?" I muttered, keeping the jar out of his sight. "You were having a nightmare and I came to check on you, but you're fine now mate, so just go back to sleep, yeah?" I offered as an explanation to what he'd just been witness to. No need to further freak him out with any _truths_ just yet…

"No, don't leave me here!" he begged, drawing closer shyly. "Just… don't leave me alone, please!"

And so whatever I had to do next had to be postponed, since Maxxie clung to my hand for dear life. I reached the conclusion that he would have been more comfortable in my room, and so I took him there.

He sat on my bed, weary, but still observing me. He was still worn, needed sleep to recover and there were some things I still had to do, preferably alone and unquestioned. But that of course meant getting him off my back first.

"Remember Russia, Max?" I asked cheekily, leaving the jar aside and joining him on the edge of the bed.

"What?" he asked suspicious, pulling away slightly. His eyes searched mine, fairly clueless.

"Oh, nothing…" I grinned and pressed my lips against his, holding him so he could not escape.

_And now you will sleep_


	8. Free

So I'll admit that I had used rather questionable means of making sure Maxxie was going to sleep profoundly for the next hours, but I am a presumptuous bastard after all. Anyway, the ethics of my methods were going to be the smallest of our problems when he woke up. As soon as that was taken care of, I started to search frantically through my pockets, hands trembling and cursing my lack of planning. When I finally found my switchblade and the small plastic phial I'd prepared I didn't quite know what and how to do it. I tried to remember how the witch had done it with Sketch.

_Fucking hell, just cut! For fuck's sake, cut a bit and draw blood, you stupid twat, how hard can that be?_

There were just nerves, that's all, I told myself. I took Maxxie's limp hand in mine, carefully holding his delicate fingers and hoping with all my heart that he would not feel anything. At last I ran the sharp blade across the tip of his thumb, squeezing a few drops of blood into the phial. It shone bright red, precious, viciously _tempting_ and stirring a vague feeling of hunger.

_No, stop! You own the incubus, not it you. Do not fall prey to its craving_

That would really have been the last thing I needed, after all the efforts – to become a fucking incubus myself.

I took one last glance at Maxxie's sleeping form before eventually getting myself to leave the room. He now looked truly peaceful in his sleep, so young and innocent, unburdened by the troubles of this world. Not yet.

I slipped outside, into the dark corridor, gripping the disgusting jar between clenched fingers, and made my way down to the basement laboratory. It had to be done, I kept telling myself, while panic was slowly creeping into my stomach, with every step I took. I drew a deep breath, reminding myself that at least I would not be alone down there. Ella – the order pariah - was going to be by my side in the moment of that decisive gesture. I did my best to fence out imagining what the elders would have had to say if only they had known what I was up to in that moment and I briefly remembered a phrase I'd read somewhere in a book, sometime, in another life – _it is time to_ _kill the boy and let the man be born._ But for me, the young boy that I still was, there was going to be no dying, just _morphing,_ on the path of my true destiny. The not so grandiose perspective of _destiny_ and in fact any kind of thoughts of future soon suffocated me. I wanted to think nothing of these things. I was tired and strained to the point of breaking and all I wanted was for someone else to do it for me, to free me from my horrid task.

* * *

 

"Do we really have to?" I asked out loud after asking the very same to myself a million times before, even if the answer was obvious.

"There is no other way" Ella said, sounding a bit tired but ever patient with my novice questions. "The incubus will not return to its world until it has claimed at least one life and you cannot keep it much longer in your possession, it will poison your mind bit by bit until you become one."

"What the hell is this anyway?" I stared down at the seemingly dark liquid boiling inside the cauldron suspicious. In the dim light it already looked like some raw material from hell to me.

"Just clean water," she explained. "The book says that it must be pure, the water of its birth."

"Bollocks! I can hardly think of anything less pure..." I muttered, dumping the jar inside. The glass broke in the bubbly hot water with a dry crack, allowing its contents to begin to dissolve.

_New life be given from torment and despair_

_To mend the things which seem beyond repair_

Ok, so those definitely weren't the most inspired verses I'd ever come up with, I thought feeling disgusted and a bit stupid, but they would do. I added the blood phial and took a few steps back away from the sinister brewing, not really knowing what to expect.

Ella was unfazed by the whole procedure and I secretly suspected she wasn't exactly new to such things. But no wonder, after all she was the bad girl, by origin a bastard of one of the Greys and as such tolerated outsider. I wasn't supposed to trust her, and yet so far I'd trusted no one but her, and had probably done all the _don'ts_ of any apprentice. My musings were interrupted when she approached the cauldron with light steps, examining the outcome of my 'experiment' curiously.

The incubus in its new form jumped over the edge of the cauldron in one swift, gracious move, and landed on the stone floor with a soft thud. I could do nothing but stare too at the figure that had swept all the heat in the room and was now standing in front of us. Even the fire beneath the cauldron had died and the few light bulbs were flickering dangerously.

"Look, why…?" I shifted uncomfortably, breaking the silence. "Why does it have to be _him_?"

"Because it took a very powerful emotion to give it life again and you only had his fear and despair, and since you're not so much about emotions yourself Tony…"

_Right. I'm not_ I thought with a strange feeling of numb and hollow, appreciating the result of my work. The blond boy wore nothing but a pair of black trousers complimenting his slender form, while his bare torso was covered in intricate designs which weren't quite like tattoos but slightly smudged, more like charcoal against his pale skin. A light smirk played on his lips and he was in truth all seduction – that was plain to see - but he was cold, cold as ice and his sapphire eyes were cold too, stripped of any human warmth. _It_ wasn't Maxxie. Yet I felt no fear in its proximity, not anymore. Now _it was mine_.

"At No.44 Crimson Square, in the Old French Quarter, there lives an old woman named Martha," I said dropping down on a chair and not looking at _it_. "You must know her well, since she _made_ you… She lives there with her two sisters."

I glanced up at the incubus suggestively, and secretly searching for any sign of disagreement, but it waited impassible, completely unmoved, with the same indifferent expression. My voice didn't tremble as I spoke the words.

"By my will, their blood shall be yours and you will claim it tonight, after which you shall leave this world. I am sure that you will find this to your satisfaction…"

In truth no such courtesy from my part was required and it was obvious that the incubus couldn't have cared about it any less. With one brief nod of its head, it slipped out of the room, a foul shadow into the dark night, like a bad dream never to be seen again.

* * *

 

The afternoon sun was almost hot and it cast a bright, blinding light all over the roof. I pulled my hood lower down on my face, shading my hurting eyes. Maxxie was in his element up here, he was a child of the sun, drawing his vital energy from the warm glow and the fresh air of daytime, but these things weren't for me, not anymore. I was now officially the latest in the long line of _bad Stonems_ who had haunted the Order throughout centuries. If my aunt was disappointed, she wasn't saying it, and if the elders were angry, they were successfully concealing it as well. They had most likely known this would happen, and that's why they'd wanted to take Effy instead of me. Effy would have been a good witch. Effy was gentle, she was kindness, and compassion, and love, a lot of things I was not. And Effy _wouldn't have survived in this world._ A respectful and somewhat fear-filled silence was what I was getting from their part most of the time, but they didn't hate me. Nobody could hate a protector, and that's what I'd chosen to become – Maxxie's protector.

My gaze followed him as he stretched and made a few warm-up moves, to a secret music only he could hear, no doubt in an attempt to ease all the tension accumulated in the past few days. He was handling it all surprisingly well, far better than I'd expected. I knew that he was in pain, feeling betrayed and above all disappointed, by his dad and by fate itself. He was never going to be a dancer as he'd so much wished, instead he was going to join his dad and be a worker by day and a healer by night. Compared to that, I was quite lucky – I'd never wanted anything special out of my life.

"So that's why Dad always wanted me to be a builder…" Maxxie concluded bitterly, coming to sit beside me on the edge. "It's sort of inconspicuous, doesn't draw attention… an effective way of being a nobody."

_And you shall be nobody – nobody's son and nobody's brother, nobody's husband and nobody's father. Fair enough…_

"Especially after he fell out with his protector. He thought Dad was being irresponsible for getting married to Mum and for having me… he only put us in danger and the protector said he couldn't keep an eye on all three of us so he left for good… Tony?"

"Yeah?" I answered a bit bored and absentminded, and it annoyed him.

"How the hell did things get so fucked up like that? Overnight?" he questioned. "Do you realize that our lives are… completely fucked? Do you really get it or you don't give a fuck about it whatsoever?"

"Look Max, I understand very well that now you'll have to be a healer even if you don't want to, just like I have to be an apprentice, and that you can't be a dancer, that you can't be with James anymore because that could be one damn expensive fuck for him – it might cost him his life, and I can't be with Michelle anymore, just now when I think I might actually love her, but we can do something with our lives that is quite special – we can help people, and apart from that we will get to know the world as dangerous and as terrifying as it really is, the way our friends will probably never know it, which is no luck for them since they live in it anyway…"

Okay, so I wasn't making much sense, but Maxxie's mood softened visibly.

"You know, Tony, I've never quite realized that there's a lot more to you than meets the eye, more than just a mainstream, bit of a twat kind of bloke… you really… went through all that to save my life…"

_I also killed three people to save your life, but you don't know that and hopefully you never will_

"Better make it worth the effort then," I replied managing a crooked smile.

I glanced down at the alley in front of the building and there I spotted Sketch, with her mum, both laughing and happy. And Sketch's mum was _walking_ , barely but she was.

"That was all I could do for her, but at least she is free now, from the bed and the wheelchair," Maxxie said, interrupting my observations. "They're both free," he added with a sigh.

"You mean Sketch…?"

"Healers cannot fix the insane, but she was never insane… she was cursed. I made her forget everything, so that now she is free…"

Maxxie smiled softly, even as his own heart was breaking. He'd freed Sketch and her mum, but he was never going to be free himself, ever. I looked away, swallowing a sudden lump of pain in my throat. But at least I was at peace with myself, knowing he was worth all I'd done. He was worth everything. Of course, another 'minor detail' he would never know.

"There is a terrible price though, since you're now my protector I'll be stuck with you for the rest of my days," he observed.

"That's not so bad," I replied cheekily. "You could have been stuck with Sketch for the rest of your days. You won't find any of _my_ hairclips under your bed, but step on my nerves and I can assure you that you'll miss her…"

**THE END**

 


End file.
